


Above All Things

by Goonlalagoon



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: A what if where New Rome isn't destroyed when the Argo II visits, Gen, because I was trying to get a handle on him and his motivations, focusing on Octavian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 01:56:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11933907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goonlalagoon/pseuds/Goonlalagoon
Summary: On first meeting him, Annabeth Chase hated Percy Jackson purely on principle, because his godly father and her godly mother were at odds due to an argument that had taken place thousands of years before. By the end of their first quest, she had decided that she didn’t care. Percy was not “the son of Posiedon”. He was just “Seaweed Brain” - a little daft, but kind, sarcastic, headstrong and loyal. He was her friend, and she no longer cared whether they were supposed to hate one another.Let us give Octavian the same chance.





	Above All Things

On first meeting him, Annabeth Chase hated Percy Jackson purely on principle, because his godly father and her godly mother were at odds due to an argument that had taken place thousands of years before. By the end of their first quest, she had decided that she didn’t care. Percy was not “the son of Posiedon”. He was just “Seaweed Brain” - a little daft, but kind, sarcastic, headstrong and loyal. He was her friend, and she no longer cared whether they were supposed to hate one another.

Let us give Octavian the same chance.

He was raised in New Rome, augur before he was old enough to hold a sword, even by the standards of these teenage soldiers. He learnt of Roman history before he could write, stories of glory and honour. He learnt that the Greeks were not to be trusted: Romans should beware the Graecus. Octavian grew from child to teen with New Rome in his heart. Anything that threatened this legacy to which he was born was not to be tolerated. He heard rumours of the Greeks, saw demigods leave the Legion in search of something else, and woke from nightmares of an army swarming over the valley, razing everything to the ground.

When the army came, it was not the Greeks but the titans and their minions, tearing at the seams of his world. When Percy told them of the other camp, a bitter thought piped up in Octavian’s mind: why didn’t they help us? He had lost friends, bore scars both on his skin and in his mind and heart.

He was not the bravest, this distant child of Apollo, but he held Rome above all things, even his own safety. (In the world of the story we know, had Nico warned him of his robe, tangled in the ballista, yet told him it would save Rome, he would not have untangled it.)

The entrails did not declare Percy unsafe, unsuited, but the portents echoed in Octavian’s mind as for the Graecus and son of Poseidon. He was tempted to lie, but placed his faith in the gods, as he always had done. Octavian still murdered Gwen, uncaring. The entrails had whispered of the weakening hold of death. Such a thing could not be ignored, and much of Octavian’s ability to be reasonable, to be compassionate, had been burned away in the Titan war. He had been the vehicle of too many quests, spoken the words at too many funerals, been the directions that sent too many to death or injury, to be able to bear empathy, so he shut it away.

He was a Roman, and true Romans did not show pain, or sorrow. True Romans did not want to cry and beg for everything to end, to say they had had enough of war and monsters and the glory that came from wielding a sword, so Octavian never admitted that he did, even to himself. He steeled himself for death and dust, and kept his eyes on the golden glory of Rome as his guiding light, his destiny and his salvation.

This Octavian still hated Percy, still glared bitterly as the newcomer stole the praetorship he had always coveted. He had started to despise Percy because he seemed to be Graecus; he continued to do so because he was praetor and Octavian was not. This bitterness would never be lost, or changed, no matter the events that followed.

The eildon still possessed Leo, but in this world, Reyna went onto the Argo II as well as Octavian. Perhaps Piper did too, claiming she wanted to fetch something from her cabin to mask her unease, and Annabeth, perceptive as always and so catching Piper’s slight worry, tagged along. Between them, they realised when something went wrong. Octavian still shrilly screamed “treachery!” and bayed for blood, but Piper talked the eildon down and Reyna had spent years with Circe; she understands an enchantment when she sees it.

Leo spends the rest of their stay terrified of himself, in fear of the destruction he almost wrought. It still isn’t a long stay, because they all agree they cannot risk it. Reyna and Annabeth still bond warily, children of goddesses with tactics and strategy as lifeblood, and Jason gets to show Piper around his other home. Frank and Leo’s first interaction is still a little tense, still a little at odds, but Frank is not dealing with someone who just destroyed his home before his eyes, and they are less at each other’s throats. It still takes time for them to warm to one another, because Hazel still looks at Leo and sees Sammy, and Leo looks at Hazel and sees someone strong and fierce and totally out of his league.

(Leo never believed he was good enough, so always fell for those he knew would never look at him. It was less painful, he thought. Frank didn’t understand that he was good enough, and worried.)

Octavian still screams for Graecus blood, but there is no support, with Reyna to explain. And he is shaken, but he had also seen Piper and Annabeth leap to stop Leo before even Reyna could move a muscle, heard the eildon speak and curse through the son of Hephaestus, watched Jason both restrain and comfort his friend when the spirit fled.

It is hard for even the most biased observer to believe the attack was intentional when they had heard Leo’s panic when he regained control, listened to the mechanic’s frantic plans to make all weaponry need to be operated by two people at once. The augur was still unconvinced by the trustworthiness of the Greeks, but he didn’t have the smoking ruins of New Rome and Camp Jupiter to condense his fears.

Reyna only had to deal with Octavian and a small handful of concerned Legionnaires, not an entire Legion out for blood. Percy was still shining in their minds as new praetor, untainted by betrayal; it had been decided they would sort out who remained praetor and who stepped down when - if - they returned. But they had explained to Reyna and the senate how to send Iris messages, and between them Percy and Jason had selected a deputy to aid the lone praetor in their absence. Octavian was bitter, but there were no half exiled praetors for him to usurp, and he was forced to content himself with the power of augur. He had no howling masses to force Reyna to listen, had no motivation beyond a background dislike and distrust.

He sat through mist conferences with cabin leaders, curious teenagers who had never dreamt there were others like them. They traded stories of the Titan war, cautiously. The Greeks hadn’t the depth of existing bias against the Romans, but they were not fools. Octavian would have despised them if they were. Arguments were not uncommon, the rage of Athena driving a wedge between the two camps, the same refrain of why didn’t you know, why didn’t you help us, why didn’t you save our friends? echoing in everyone’s minds, but Reyna called for calm, along with Rachel and Grover, echoed by Malcolm, Will and most of the other cabin leaders. Clarisse just grunted, but then Clarisse liked to fight. But Clarisse - she would also laugh with you after pummeling you to the ground, over food and gulps of water, crowing at victory and daring you to challenge her again. Once, Reyna got into a friendly discussion with Malcolm and Clarisse about strategy and war game ideas, and if he closed his eyes Octavian could have been in the weekly centurion lunch meeting.

The Greeks sounded no different to the Romans, at times. They were all children, teenagers, too young for the trials they had faced, for the dangers they were preparing for. They were all children, teenagers, trading fashion tips and gossip, playing pranks and planning midnight feasts, too used to war and battles, used to taking their peace whenever it came by, no matter how brief. Perhaps their smiles were all the brighter for the darkness they were surrounded by.

When Annabeth sent a message to Reyna from the dark depths of Tartarus, the praetor still saddled her pegasus and flew to the aid of her friends and allies. Reyna was a commander; she understood the bigger picture. The safety of New Rome, of the world, was more important than being certain of her position as praetor when she returned, and it always would be. Reyna judged people by what they did, not by what was said about them. She applied the same to herself; she did not care if she was declared exile for crossing the mare nostrum, only that in doing so she saved her home, her family.

Octavian shouted and raged, perplexed, about helping those who had destroyed her first home, and she shook her head at him: “And he saved this one.” Percy had earned her forgiveness, or, at least, her acceptance of the past. She understood the choices a demigod must make on a quest all too well, and would not hold them against him, or by extension Annabeth - though it admittedly didn’t hurt that he had given her a very un-Roman apology.

(In another world, where Leo fired upon New Rome, Reyna would forgive him too, once the war was over and she had listened to the tale, greyhounds sniffing in search of deception. She may never like him, but she understood enchantment, possession, the things that a person could be driven to do by magical reins. These were not your actions. They were the actions of someone else. She also understood how you could stand in a group and yet be alone, though she never spoke of it.)

Octavian still took command once Reyna was gone, but could not get support to march on Camp Half blood. He readied the cohorts, planned for treachery, waiting for the Greeks to turn on the Legion. When they did, he swore they would be annihilated. Rome would never fall while he lived. When the messages came, there was no declaration of war, no false gifts, no spies or attacks. Instead he received a plea for help - from the seven, from Reyna, from the counselors at Camp Half-blood, and Lupa looked at him, the fires of Rome burning in her gaze, until he left for Temple hill. He sacrificed near a hundred toys that night, searching for any hint of danger, but returned with the dawn to order the Legion to prepare for battle.

If allying with Greeks was necessary for the safety of Rome, then Octavian would willingly be allied with his nightmares.  
(Senatus Populusque Romanus; Rome above all things.)


End file.
